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The Silent Bullet
by
Riley studied it dubiously and scratched his chin thoughtfully. “That’s a hard one, Mr. Kennedy, sir. You see, it means getting into so many different houses and apartments. Now you don’t want to do it by means of a warrant, do you, sir? Of course not. Well, then, how can we get in?”
“You’re a pretty good-looking chap yourself, Riley,” said Kennedy. “I should think you could jolly a housemaid, if necessary. Anyhow, you can get the fellow on the beat to do it–if he isn’t already to be found in the kitchen. Why, I see a dozen ways of getting the notepaper.”
“Oh, it’s me that’s the lady-killer, sir,” grinned Riley. “I’m a regular Blarney stone when I’m out on a job of that sort. Sure, I’ll have some of them for you in the morning.”
“Bring me what you get, the first thing in the morning, even if you’ve landed only a few samples,” said Kennedy, as Riley departed, straightening his tie and brushing his hat on his sleeve.
“And now, Walter, you too must excuse me to-night,” said Craig. “I’ve got a lot to do, and sha’n’t be up to our apartment till very late–or early. But I feel sure I’ve got a strangle-hold on this mystery. If I get those papers from Riley in good time to-morrow I shall invite you and several others to a grand demonstration here to-morrow night. Don’t forget. Keep the whole evening free. It will be a big story.”
Kennedy’s laboratory was brightly lighted when I arrived early the next evening. One by one his “guests” dropped in. It was evident that they had little liking for the visit, but the coroner had sent out the “invitations,” and they had nothing to do but accept. Each one was politely welcomed by the professor and assigned a seat, much as he would have done with a group of students. The inspector and the coroner sat back a little. Mrs. Parker, Mr. Downey, Mr. Bruce, myself, and Miss La Neige sat in that order in the very narrow and uncomfortable little armchairs used by the students during lectures.
At last Kennedy was ready to begin. He took his position behind the long, flat-topped table which he used for his demonstrations before his classes. “I realise, ladies and gentlemen,” he began formally, “that I am about to do a very unusual thing; but, as you all know, the police and the coroner have been completely baffled by this terrible mystery and have requested me to attempt to clear up at least certain points in it. I will begin what I have to say by remarking that the tracing out of a crime like this differs in nothing, except as regards the subject-matter, from the search for a scientific truth. The forcing of man’s secrets is like the forcing of nature’s secrets. Both are pieces of detective work. The methods employed in the detection of crime are, or rather should be, like the methods employed in the process of discovering scientific truth. In a crime of this sort, two kinds of evidence need to be secured. Circumstantial evidence must first be marshalled, and then a motive must be found. I have been gathering facts. But to omit motives and rest contented with mere facts would be inconclusive. It would never convince anybody or convict anybody. In other words, circumstantial evidence must first lead to a suspect, and then this suspect must prove equal to accounting for the facts. It is my hope that each of you may contribute something that will be of service in arriving at the truth of this unfortunate incident.”
The tension was not relieved even when Kennedy stopped speaking and began to fuss with a little upright target which he set up at one end of his table. We seemed to be seated over a powder magazine which threatened to explode at any moment. I, at least, felt the tension so greatly that it was only after he had started speaking again, that I noticed that the target was composed of a thick layer of some putty-like material.